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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26348803">don't worry yourself (worry yourself)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/celosiaa/pseuds/celosiaa'>celosiaa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>JM + Emma [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Concussions, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, JM adopted a child, Jon has EDS, Jordanian Jon, M/M, Nonbinary Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Paramedic Martin, Trans Martin Blackwood, arabic-speaking jon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:28:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,143</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26348803</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/celosiaa/pseuds/celosiaa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin has a rough day on the job as a paramedic.  He tries to tough it out anyway, of course.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>JM + Emma [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1909813</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>127</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Emmaverse AU</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>don't worry yourself (worry yourself)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hey guess what I’m turning a prompt into a multichapter fic!! Featuring: paramedic Martin, Arabic-speaking Jon, nb Jon, Jon with EDS</p><p>Incredible artwork by<br/><a href="https://janekfan.tumblr.com/">@janekfan</a> Click their name to find their tumblr--they write amazing fics and draw such incredible art &lt;3</p><p>For those who don't know, this is part of a long-form series about Jonmartin and their adopted daughter, Emma. There will be snippets, oneshots, and multi-chaptered fics spotlighting on their family dynamic! Not all of them will be in order of linear time, so I will be sure to indicate Emma's age in the beginning notes of each fic.</p><p>Emma's age: 10</p><p>CW: nausea</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hello!” Jon shouts from the kitchen, round the corner from where Martin has just stepped in the front door.  “You’re early!”</p><p>The pitch of it rings around Martin’s head, pulsing behind his eyes with a painful <em>bang bang bang</em> that forces him to reach out a hand to lean against the wall.  Breathing for a moment through his irritability, he braces himself before echoing back the greeting, though not nearly as loud as his husband’s had been.</p><p>“Hey,” he calls in as light a tone as he can manage, squinting his eyes against the impact, his own voice sounding thin in his throat.</p><p>
  <em>Got to do better, he’s going to suspect something.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Can’t have that on Emma’s holiday.</em>
</p><p>It’s really quite foolish—he knows that Jon is going to figure it out, knows that he’s going to realize in the light of the morning that Martin’s car is not parked in the drive, that he’d been dropped off by his partner instead.  Jon will notice the bruising when it comes.  But really, it would be nice to just give them both this evening, especially since Jon has been texting him about what a lovely Saturday he and Emma have had.</p><p>
  <em>Without me.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>…god, <strong>stop it.</strong></em>
</p><p>
  <strong> <em>Pathetic.  Selfish.</em> </strong>
</p><p>Slipping off his shoes, Martin pads into the living room, hoping to sneak past the kitchen and jump in the shower before anything else.  Perhaps the warmth of the water over his aching shoulders would serve to displace some of their soreness—as well as the irritability from what he’s starting to think may be a concussion after all.  Back at the station, he’d shrugged off his coworkers’ concerns, assuring them that everything was fine—though his partner had insisted on driving him home, just in case.  A wise decision, really.  He owes her one.</p><p>As he passes silently by the kitchen, he takes a moment to enjoy the view—Jon humming as he stands over the stove, hair loose and a floor-length skirt falling freely around him, leg braces on but cane nowhere to be seen.</p><p>
  
</p><p><em>A good day, then, </em>Martin can’t help but quirk up a smile, though it sends a throb of pain through his injury.  Even if his stomach twists with jealousy (and a bit of nausea), he will never begrudge Jon the privilege of a lovely day with their daughter.  He deserves that.  <em>They </em>deserve that. </p><p>
  <em>Just need to stop wallowing and take a shower.</em>
</p><p>With another steadying breath, Martin turns back around, and—</p><p>“<em>Not so fast!!”</em></p><p>Before he can even process what’s happening, he finds himself being twisted into a chokehold and kneed lightly in the stomach—enough to send his head <em>spinning spinning spinning</em>, the ground rapidly approaching—</p><p>“Dad!” Emma gasps as he hits the floor, jumping back from him at once.</p><p>
  <em>“Gah—“</em>
</p><p>Of course it had been Emma, practicing the self-defense moves she’d learned from Aunties Basira and Daisy last weekend.  Ordinarily, Martin is more than happy to serve as a practice dummy, as she tended to hold back on attacks even with her scrawny 10-year-old’s body—so really, no damage has ever been done.  Today, though…today it’s enough to send him to the ground, vision throbbing in time with his heartbeat as he stares up at the ceiling fan.</p><p>“What happened?  Martin!”</p><p>As Jon comes into view, he brings the scent of spices with him—turning Martin’s already-queasy stomach at once.  Clapping a hand quickly over his mouth, he tries to force his breathing to slow, anything to soothe the rising nausea from becoming something far worse.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Dad, I’m so sorry,” Emma chokes tearfully from behind her hands, eyes still wide in shock.</p><p>“What happened?”</p><p>And now Jon is attempting to kneel beside him, sending such visceral waves of guilt through his body that he has to stop him.</p><p>“No, Jon, don’t—“ he cuts off to inhale.  “Don’t, you’ll hurt yourself.”</p><p>Although he does stop his descent at Martin’s request, the look he gives him now still bears the threat of ignoring him—forcing Martin to sit up, slow and painful.  His head throbs, his vision spins wildly, and he blinks rapidly against the unsteadying change in posture.</p><p>“Martin—“ Jon gasps, leaning down to brush his hair away from his face.  “Good <em>lord</em>, what are these bruises?”</p><p>
  <em>Oh, excellent work hiding it.</em>
</p><p>A small, horrified gasp from the left pulls his attention away from the question.</p><p>“Did I—oh my god, did I—“</p><p>“<em>No</em>—no, sweetheart, you didn’t,” Martin is quick to assure her, dizziness at last fading enough that he is able to focus on her.  “This is—this is from work.”</p><p>As soon as the words come out of his mouth, he risks a glance at Jon—who glares at him with such seething fury that Martin can only hope is directed at his attacker, not himself.  It’s been a long while since he’s seen this anger rise; it brings back a memory of their days of wandering through hell—</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>"It doesn’t want to harm me.”</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>"And me?”</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>“I won’t let it.”</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Perhaps it’s the concussion, but Martin could swear he sees a flicker of green flash through Jon’s eyes as he speaks—sending a chill down his spine.</p><p>“What do you mean, this is from work?” Jon mutters lowly, searching Martin’s eyes for an answer.  “Did—did Thomas do this?”</p><p>“No, heh—“</p><p>Martin almost wishes it <em>had</em> been the station’s resident transphobe, because then he would have someone to blame.</p><p>“—it was a patient.  They were high, they thought I was trying to hurt them—it’s not their fault.”</p><p>The expression that crosses Jon’s face indicates that he thinks quite the opposite, but Martin cannot find it in himself to argue at the moment.  Perhaps later, when he’s…</p><p>
  <em>Right.  Normal.  Shower.  Dinner.</em>
</p><p>“Alright, up I get,” he says as lightly as possible, rising slowly to his feet.</p><p>“I’m so sorry, Dad,” Emma says shakily, jumping in to steady his arms on the way up.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t—“</p><p>“It’s alright, sweetheart,” he replies at once, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder—wanting to hug her, but knowing he ought to get his balance back first.  “You couldn’t have known.”</p><p>“Sit down, <em>habibi</em>,” Jon pleads with him, now grasping at his forearms, tugging him toward the sofa.  “Please just sit down.”</p><p>“No, no—I’m alright, Jon, really,” he assures, giving him what he hopes is a confident smile.  “I’m just going to hop in the shower, and then we can eat, okay?”</p><p>“Martin—“</p><p>“Dad—“</p><p>“<em>I’m fine</em>.  Seriously,” he says, pulling his arms from Jon’s grip, as if to prove something—what, he isn’t sure.  “Back in a bit.”</p><p>Jon does let him go after that—though not without a meaningful glare, which Martin chooses pointedly to ignore.  He <em>will</em> be fine, after all.  He’s just got to make it through dinner.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hope you all enjoyed!!! there will be a second part to this fic!</p><p>If you're interested in seeing some previews of topics to come, as well as other great stuff people have sent in about this verse, hit up my Tumblr @celosiaa and search through the #emma tag!</p><p>have a great day!<br/>-love, connor</p></blockquote></div></div>
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